


Strangers

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [45]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, POV Brian Kinney, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since moving to New York, Brian has struggled to sustain his friendship with Michael. At the best of times, it's been difficult, but now it seems nearly impossible. After another unfortunate argument, they seem to be on the brink of becoming totally estranged. Brian knows there's no going back, but is there possibly a way forward?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to _Friends_. If you haven't already, I would recommend reading that one first as it sets the scene for the events in this story :)

"Well, there's no going back now," Daphne laments, pulling a face. "It's totally over."

Brian touches her arm lightly as he navigates around her, heading from  _Art History_ to  _Art & Photography. _They're in pursuit of a birthday gift for Justin, but it's proving difficult since the bookshop that Daphne asked him to accompany her to is fairly pathetic. Brian imagines Justin would balk at the scarcity of their Arts sections. Daphne picks up a book and holds it up for Brian to see. "Does Justin have this one?"

"He has almost all of these," Brian says, scanning the shelves carefully. He grabs a couple from the top shelf and hands them to her. "He doesn't have these, so take your pick. By the way, we need to be out of here soon if we're going to make that flight."

He had expected their shopping trip to go more quickly than this, but they've spent the last half-hour huddled in this lonely corner of the shop talking about Daphne's friend Chelsea. Former friend, rather, since they came to blows last week. Daphne has just finished relating the whole shitty story: how Chelsea cornered her with yet another lacklustre date/'potential soul mate', how Daphne flipped out and confronted Chelsea, and how it was so bad that everything between them can be summed up in two words - scorched earth. Fortunately, Daphne doesn't seem too upset. She seems angry, but that's about the extent of it. Brian gets the sense that she checked out of that friendship some time ago and that their recent falling out was essentially little more than a formality. He wonders if, perhaps, this is a bad omen. It was only a few weeks ago that they were having dinner together, ranting about their less-than-stellar 'friends', during which time Brian realised that their circumstances were fairly identical. Is this what's coming next for him and Michael? Scorched earth? Brian would prefer not to think about such things. He'd quite prefer not to think about Michael at all. So he focuses back on Daphne and the task at hand. It's Sunshine's birthday, after all, which is certainly a happy occasion. There's no point dwelling on miserable things right now.

"I'll get both," Daphne shrugs. "It's not every day that your bestie turns twenty-six."

Snickering, Brian teases, "You're both aging rapidly."

Daphne laughs and swats his arm. "Said the thirty-eight year old."

Ugh. Thirty-eight. Two years from forty. Too far from his youth. Grimacing, Brian groans, "Fuck, don't remind me."

"Calm down." Daphne smiles up at him brightly. "You're still as stunning as the day we first met, if not more so."

As always, her cheer proves infectious. Brian smiles and leans in to kiss her forehead. He's mildly disappointed when she doesn't blush - it's getting harder to make her blush, but then it has been nine years that they've known each other now. Daphne has clearly acclimatised to his flirtacious ways. After checking his watch, Brian urges, "Come on, let's get out of here. Mother Taylor will kill us if we miss that flight."

"Hold on," Daphne says, handing him the two books. "Is there anything else here he doesn't have?"

Sighing, Brian shifts the cumbersome books under his arm. "I'm not carrying these through the airport, just so you know."

"Of course not," Daphne says, smiling innocently. Brian sees right through it; he'll almost definitely end up carrying them for her. They weigh a fucking tonne, after all. He sighs again and scans the shelf carefully, trying to spot anything else that might appeal to Justin.

Finally, he lands on a book in the  _Art History_ section. It's up high, so he nudges Daphne aside and reaches up to fetch it. He takes a look at the back and warns, "It's pricey."

"Justin's worth it," she says with confidence, smiling exuberantly. "Okay, let's g-- oh."

If the uncomfortable expression on her face weren't warning enough, Brian knows trouble is looming when a familiar voice pipes up behind him. "Brian?"

Shit. He had been hoping to avoid running into anyone (or, rather, a very specific someone), but apparently Pittsburgh has different plans because it has just manifested the one specific someone Brian really doesn't want to deal with. Well, now he's in for it. Brian summons all the strength he can and then turns to face Michael.

Michael returns the book he was holding to the shelf and folds his arms over his chest. Eyeing Brian and Daphne warily, he says, "I didn't know you were in town."

"Only for the day," Brian replies shortly. "Malcolm needed me in a meeting this morning and I'm-"

He glances at Daphne and amends, " _We're_ headed back soon."

It wasn't intended as a dig, but Michael clearly interprets it as such. Looking increasingly agitated, Michael says slowly, "So were you going to call, or drop by, or... anything?"

The question is so accusatory it almost makes Brian laugh. Only, there's nothing really amusing about any of this - that's for fucking sure. It becomes even more evident when Daphne grabs the books and starts backing away slowly. Forcing an apologetic smile their way, she explains awkwardly, "I'm going to go... buy this. These. Over there. For Justin. Um, bye, Michael. Bri, I'll see you back at the car?"

"Sure," he says absently. Then she's gone in a flash. Brian quite wishes he could follow suit, but that would only make matters worse. He hasn't spoken to Michael since their fight - what was it, a month ago? He can't very well run out now after such a long spell of silence - that would certainly drive the last nail into the coffin carrying their friendship. Time to face the music. 

Looking at Brian in outrage, Michael scoffs. "So, what... you're never here, and now that you are deigning to grace Pittsburgh with your presence, you're only spending time with Daphne? Is this how it's going to be from now on?"

Brian leans against the wall and eyes Michael intently. "Maybe. That's up to you."

"Oh, it is, is it?" 

Brian shrugs. "Sure. I didn't get the sense last time that I was all that welcome."

Michael stares back angrily for an excruciatingly long moment, then huffs and mutters, "This is bullshit. I don't know why I'm bothering with this."

It's such a small jab, really, but Brian feels like he's been slapped. Michael's words are surprisingly dismissive; Brian hates himself for it, but they leave a lingering sense of worthlessness itching at him.

He hates himself even more for not being able to let it rest. He could walk away, but instead, he finds himself buying into it and retorting, "Why should you? You made it perfectly fucking clear what you think of me."

It's pleasing to see an uncomfortable flush splotching over Michael's face. Brian steps forward and straightens up, so that he's looming as he snaps, "According to you, I'm a selfish asshole who abandoned Pittsburgh for my untrustworthy, undeserving boyfriend."

Michael's gaze drops downwards momentarily. "I told you already - I'm sorry for what I said that night."

"No you aren't." Brian thinks back to that piss-poor message that Cynthia relayed to him three weeks back and sneers. It was almost definitely sourced from the Professor. Regardless, whoever wrote it was phoning it in - it didn't even come close to making up for everything that was said. "Did you seriously think I'd buy that? A thirty second apology that you left with Cynthia? Which, in all likelihood, your husband wrote for you?"

Michael tenses and glares at Brian. "He didn't, but you know what? Believe what you want. It's not like it matters, does it? Now that you've excised me from your life-"

"You've done a fine job of excising yourself!"

Gaping in outrage, Michael cries, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I tried," Brian snarls. "I have tried everything. Every-fucking-thing. How many times have Justin and I invited you to visit now? I've lost count. And, yet, I can count perfectly on one goddamned hand how many times you've bothered to show up. I fly back here all the time-"

"It doesn't count when you spend all your time at Kinnetik or with Daphne! She's not even your friend, she's Justin's friend!"

Before Brian can react with outrage to that ludicrously grade-school statement, Michael raises his hands and says hastily, "Sorry, sorry. You two must be pretty close. Otherwise, why would you keep showing up here and ignoring everyone else in favour of seeing her?"

"Once," Brian spits, holding up a finger. "Once, I've done that, and the circumstances today were completely fucking exceptional-"

"It's not just today! What about last winter?"

Brian's jaw very nearly hits the floor. Hell, it very nearly crashes right on through the goddamned tiles. "Are you, perhaps, referring to the time I visited her when _her mother_ _died?"_

"You were here for the better part of a week," Michael snaps. "You could have spared an hour to come and see me."

A surge of protectiveness hits Brian. He can still remember Daphne weeping in his arms at the cemetery, so vividly that it hurts. The sense of protectiveness that he felt that entire week - hell, that he still feels now - was so intense that it was just shy of painful. It returns with a vengeance now. Infuriated, he demands, "Are you seriously complaining that I didn't make time for you then? And  _I'm_ the selfish one?!"

"Justin was the one who should have been there for her! Where the hell was he?!"

A headache suddenly begins to bloom behind Brian's eyes; it comes in hot and sharp then spreads like wildfire. Brian takes a deep breath but it doesn't help; the headache persists, growing exponentially as he stares Michael down. "It wasn't that simple."

"It's exactly that simple," Michael says sharply. "Only you seem to spend a hell of a lot of time bending over backwards to please him."

The headache catapults into a shrieking, throbbing nightmare. Brian can feel his stomach twisting with a sickening sense of betrayal. How have they arrived here? How the fuck have things gotten so bad that _that_ is how Michael sees his relationship with Justin? He's tempted to scream at Michael, tell him how goddamned wrong he is, and then let him know that they're finished. As soon as he thinks it ( _we're through_ ), his stomach twists harder into an unyielding knot that cements and sinks. All he can bring himself to say is, "You don't know shit about us."

"I know plenty," Michael snaps. 

"Fuck off," Brian spits. It's plain to see how much it hurts Michael; he wishes he could take some satisfaction in that, but there's none to be found. He only feels defeated, more and more with every second that passes.

With his stomach continuing to sink and his brain threatening to pulse straight through his skull, Brian turns and walks away. Unfortunately, it's not as simple as making some grand exit and leaving this all behind. Michael is hot on his heels, insistent on continuing this awful fight. As soon as they're outside, he grabs Brian by the arm and snaps, "Why not just say it?"

"Say what?!"

"Justin's more important to you than anyone else." Michael folds his arms over his chest and glowers at Brian. "It's been obvious for years. So go on - admit it. I'd like to hear it out loud."

Brian does manage to laugh a little now, but it's utterly humorless. He steps towards Michael, stares him down, and says slowly, "Justin is more important to me than anyone else other than Gus. There, how's that?"

He watches more hurt flashing in Michael's eyes. As much as it pains him, he's tempted to laugh again. Isn't that exactly what Michael just asked to hear? Didn't he just say how obvious it was? How fucking predictable and how utterly laughable, that Mikey can't actually handle the truth, even though he demanded to hear it. Trying not to indulge the nasty urge to laugh out loud, Brian challenges, "Who's more important to you? Me or Ben?"

Michael looks away. Brian snorts. "Allow me - Ben's more important to you. Your kids are more important to you. By a long shot, in fact. And that's how it ought to be - they're your family, same way that Justin and Gus are mine. We're not fourteen anymore - Ben, Hunter, and J.R. come first for you, Justin and Gus come first for me. That's how it is."

He knows he's won this round. It was clear as soon as Michael averted his gaze - that was a sure admission of defeat. It's even clearer as Michael continues staring off into the distance, a resigned look on his face. Brian is tempted to leave it at that and make a break for it, but then Michael meets his gaze again. Indignantly, he protests, "At least I don't rub it in your face."

"When have I _ever_ rubbed it in your face?"

Looking gobsmacked, Michael cries, "Uh, my birthday? Two years ago? You promised you'd be here, you made this huge deal about all of it, and then you disappeared! You bailed completely without a word of warning or even the slightest hint of an apology! And then I hear you ran back to New York to be with Justin! What the fuck _was_ that?"

If he felt like he had been slapped before, Brian feels like he's just been punched now. The memory of that day has been forcibly scripted into his consciousness, leaving behind an ugly scar. He can still almost feel the way Justin collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He can still recall all the months that followed, where Justin had the shit beat out of him by intensive therapy attendance. Of course, Michael isn't aware of any of that. Daphne is. The munchers are. Gus has some very limited, age-appropriate understanding of what went on. Other than that, nobody knows what happened that day or what came next. Brian prefers it that way. It's not anybody else's goddamned business.

Since he would rather die than out Justin, all he says is, "Justin needed me."

"Justin needed you," Michael repeats dubiously. There's something vulnerable about the way he says it; Brian feels compelled to do something about that, but what?

He wishes he could let Michael know that he's not playing favourites right now - that Justin really did need him, that it was absolutely crucial. Though he wouldn't dare out Justin, he wishes he could show Michael what it was like: how distraught Justin was that night, how destroyed he was in the months that followed. If Michael could understand that, it might help. So Brian lowers his defenses as best he can, meets Michael's gaze steadily, and says candidly, "He needed me. Maybe more than he ever has. You're just going to have to trust me on that."

Michael's expression softens slightly. Brian almost takes it as another victory, but then Michael protests, "You know, I've needed you, too. And when I needed you most, when Mel and Linz left with J.R., I-"

This time, Brian can't help but laugh bitterly. There is something deeply, darkly, disturbingly amusing about Michael's tunnel vision. Shaking his head (which, _ouch_ , doesn't help his headache one bit), Brian points out, "They left with Gus, too. You're not the only one with a kid in another country."

"Did I say I was?!"

"You literally just said  _'when Mel and Linz left with J.R.'._ Show me any reference to Gus or me!" _  
_

"Fine! When they left with the kids, I needed you. And then you left, too. What did you expect? For me to be happy about losing my kid, Mel and Linz, and my best friend in one go? And now I find out that you're not even thinking about coming home!"

"This isn't home anymore." Brian doesn't mean to say it; it sort of just falls from his mouth without him realising it. Then it's out there, and there's no taking it back. This time, there's more even hurt written in Michael's expression. That was to be expected - Brian knows full well that there are people who can handle hearing that, and people who can't. Daphne, for one, has always been supportive. Jennifer, however, burst into tears when she first heard that Justin wasn't planning on returning to Pittsburgh. Brian has suspected for years that Michael would feel similarly disheartened. Now that his theory has been proven, he feels stricken with guilt. Brian cringes inwardly, wishing he could collect the words back up and jam them back into his mouth, then swallow them whole. But it's far too late for that.

The hurt expression fades from Michael's face and is replaced by a stonier look. As he shakes his head and pins Brian with a disappointed gaze, Michael complains, "I don't even know you anymore."

Brian couldn't have said it better himself. He's standing here, torn between two realities; on the one hand, he wants to say that this is Michael standing in front of him,  _Mikey,_ his best friend, the most familiar person in the world. But that's not the truth anymore, is it? They're not fourteen anymore - in fact, they're so far removed from that reality, that it seems unreachable. No, this isn't his most familiar person anymore. This isn't his best friend... is Michael even a friend at all? It crushes Brian to realise that the person standing in front of him who was once so close to him is, essentially, a stranger. 

Before Brian can say anything else, Michael turns and leaves. Brian doesn't watch him go. He refuses to. He storms back to the car, trying to focus on the sound of his feet thudding against the pavement so he doesn't have to hear the chant echoing in his head:  _we're through, we're through, **we're through.**_

*

Despite feeling utterly dejected for the entirety of their trip to New York, Brian is grateful for three things: that Daphne doesn't ask him if he's okay (it's fucking obvious that he's not), that she doesn't try to console him (it's not possible, so why bother?), and that she mostly stays quiet (there's a constant stream of thought blaring in his mind; Brian can't take conversation on top of that). She does pull him into a hug as they wait for a cab outside JFK and Brian finds that he's grateful for that, too. He still feels rotten, only slightly less so.

There's plenty more where that came from when they get back to the apartment. He's wrapped up in Molly and Jennifer's arms as soon as he's through the door, while Daphne smothers Justin with a hug. After Molly finishes reeling through the evening's agenda, Justin pulls him aside and embraces him. Brian closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation of Justin's arms winding around him, all warm and snug. Sinking into it, he murmurs in Justin's ear, "Hey."

"Hey." Justin squeezes him. "Did the meeting go well?"

"It was fine. Good birthday so far?"

"Great." Justin eases back and faces Brian with a grin. "Better, now that you're here."

Brian smiles, but it feels like it could slip at any moment. He knows that Justin sees straight through it. Since they're not alone, they don't say anything more; Justin simply gives him a look that says  _we'll talk later._ Brian nods slightly and then presses a kiss to Justin's forehead. It offers a slight hint of comfort, but it's not nearly enough.

*

Brian tries to keep his spirits up for all of the birthday celebrations that have been planned meticulously by Jennifer and Molly, but he hits his limit after dinner. He excuses himself, explaining that there are still calls he has to make. It's not entirely untrue since Cynthia is still waiting to be briefed about the Pittsburgh meeting. He heads up to the roof to make the call and ends up feeling even worse because he gets her voicemail, manages to sum up the meeting in fifteen seconds flat, and then he turns his phone off and spends god knows how long chain-smoking alone. 

Eventually, Justin shows up. Brian half expects to get chewed out for abandoning him on his birthday, but then he notices that Justin is carrying reinforcements: a blanket and a plateful of birthday cake. That doesn't exactly scream trouble. Smiling softly, Justin sits down next to Brian against the wall and spreads the blanket over their legs. "It's cold up here, you know."

Brian shrugs. Justin sets the plate of cake down and takes Brian's hands in his. "I've grown quite attached to these. I'd prefer if we didn't lose them to frostbite."

"I thought you were watching a movie."

"It finished ages ago," Justin says, caressing Brian's palms with long, gliding motions. "You've been up here for hours."

Wincing, Brian murmurs, "Shit, I'm sorry, Sunshine."

"Don't be." Drawing Brian's hands to his mouth, Justin kisses each of them. "Daph told me you ran into Michael."

"Yeah." Brian tilts his head back, resting it against the wall. "It didn't go well, in case you were wondering."

"I figured." Justin squeezes his hands gently. "What happened?"

It takes some time for Brian to put it into words. It helps when Justin's head comes to rest on his shoulder. Staring down at their joined hands, Brian admits, "I think we're through."

"Through?" There's dread lingering in Justin's voice. 

"Through," Brian confirms. "I don't see a way of getting past this."

"But..." Justin sighs. "But you've been friends for, like-"

"Twenty-four years," Brian mutters. He starts when Justin begins to shake with laughter against him. "What?!"

"That's almost as long as I've been alive," Justin says, his voice trembling as he laughs.

Brian grabs a handful of Justin's hair and tugs it, scolding half-heartedly, "Brat."

After bringing his laughter to a halt, Justin kisses Brian's cheek. "My point being, that's one hell of a long time."

"It is," Brian agrees, relaxing further as Justin begins nuzzling his neck.

"Most of it was good, wasn't it?"

"Most of it, yeah." He tries to think back to those times, but they seem incredibly distant. "Not so much lately. You know what he's been like since we moved here."

Justin ceases his nuzzling to supply gently, "He misses us."

"Can you do me a favour?" Brian grabs another handful of Justin's hair and pulls at it so that Justin is facing him. "Can  _you_ not defend him? I don't want to hear it from anyone, but especially not from you."

"Sorry." Justin leans in for a kiss, which Brian gladly provides. He's gladder still when Justin slips into his lap and straddles him. Justin always knows what to do; the kiss lasts until almost all of the weight on Brian's shoulders has lifted. When they break apart, Justin plants two tender kisses to Brian's cheeks, and then picks up the plate of cake. "Here, Molly wanted you to have some. It's her specialty: lemon cake with buttercream."

"You're going to make me fat," Brian grumbles, but he doesn't fight it when Justin feeds him a dollop of frosting. 

Smiling adoringly, Justin whispers, "I'll love you all the same."

Brian snorts disbelievingly but still takes another bite of the cake. Justin beams and divides his attention between feeding Brian cake and lazily kissing his way up and down Brian's neck. He's two years shy of forty, too far removed from his youth, on the cusp of losing his best friend of over two decades, and he'll probably be bloated by tomorrow morning... but at least he has this. That's something.

*

"Brian?"

As Cynthia's voice sounds over the intercom, Brian abandons the email he was drafting. She doesn't wait for him to respond, she simply goes right ahead and announces, "You have a visitor."

Brian stares at the stack of files on his desk and then at the inbox full of unread emails. "Who is it?"

"It's Michael," she says, her tone totally neutral. God, she's good - she knows all about their spat and is wholly on Brian's side, and yet she sounds totally indifferent and immaculately professional. 

Brian briefly entertains the idea of telling Cynthia to tell Michael to fuck off. He imagines that would satisfy his more vindictive side. He also imagines it would satisfy Cynthia's more savage instincts. Then he remembers the email he was drafting, which was a reply to an email from Ben that arrived this morning: 

_Brian,_

_I know it's no excuse, but things have been rough lately with work and family. We're not doing so well with J.R. so far away - I'm sure you know what that's like. It's been getting to Michael a lot. It may not always seem this way, but he cares about you deeply and misses you, and Justin as well. We all do._

_\- Ben_

Brian has considered many responses to this but now they all seem irrelevant. He deletes the draft and then reaches to press the button for the intercom. "Send him in." _  
_

In the ten or so seconds it takes for Cynthia to usher Michael into Brian's office, Brian's stomach manages to twist into knots again. He doesn't know what to expect: another half baked apology? Another screaming match? He steels himself for any awful eventuality that might present itself.

But when Michael walks in, he's visibly anxious. Brian isn't sure what to make of that. He remains lounging in his desk chair, awaiting Michael's explanation for what this is all about.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Michael begins.

Brian shrugs and gestures to the seats facing across from him. "Cynthia wouldn't have let you get this far if you were."

Michael doesn't seem to notice the invitation; he's caught up in looking around the office. 

"I don't remember it being this big," Michael muses, pacing the office and staring around in wonderment. 

"We renovated," Brian says, trying to rid his voice of any hint of bitterness. It's not his best work. But then again, Michael ought to have remembered the renovations. They were mentioned repeatedly at the time, during visits, in emails, over the phone...

"It looks great," Michael says with a smile. "Incredible, actually."

Brian smiles back. The bitterness fades away. "Thanks."

Michael's smile grows a fraction uneasy. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

"Fine, I'll bite." Brian shrugs. "What are you doing here?"

"Ben suggested that I come and visit. He booked me a room a few blocks over until Thursday." Michael blushes a little. "And he did tell me to apologise last time. He didn't tell me what to say, though! I'm not _that_ whipped."

"But you are whipped," Brian snarks, smirking a little.

Michael's eyebrows shoot up. He seems to have landed somewhere hazy between offended and amused. There once was a time when he would have recognised this as teasing a lot sooner; Brian is somewhat disheartened by how long it takes Michael to see it. Eventually, though, Michael laughs and concedes, "Sure, a bit. Anyway, he may have told me to apologise, but I meant what I said. I shouldn't have been so hard on Justin. That was wrong."

"Very wrong," Brian corrects, casting a sharp look Michael's way. "I'm guessing you came here to get everything out in the open?"

"Yeah."

"So let's get this out in the open." Brian leans forward, folding his arms atop the desk. "I don't give a shit how much you might disagree with how we're living our lives. You have no fucking right to talk about him like that. Do it again and that's it for us. Understood?"

Michael pales a little. "I was upset."

"I don't fucking care. We're happy here. We're happy together." Brian sees Michael's mouth open as though he's about to protest. "That's it. That's all there is to it. I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Fine," Michael says, although Brian has a lurking suspicion that it's anything but. Before he can pursue that line of inquiry, Michael leans in and asks, "Can I get something out in the open?"

"Fine."

Michael averts his gaze. Whilst glancing around the room, he confides, "I meant what I said yesterday. I do feel like I don't know you anymore. Or, at least, not as well as I used to. Sometimes it really feels like we're strangers."

Feeling sunken with defeat, Brian admits, "I know."

Michael looks similarly weighed down. "I have no idea what to do with that."

Brian is about to admit he doesn't know either when the door swings open and Justin comes striding in. He screeches to a halt at first sight of Michael. "Hey..."

"Michael's visiting," Brian explains quickly.

"I figured," Justin says, recovering from his shock quickly. He hides it quite well as he grins at Michael and asks, "Was the flight okay?"

"It was alright." Michael's nervousness is plainly apparent once more. Brian imagines he's wondering exactly how much Justin knows about their fighting and what was said. Luckily for Michael, Justin knows very little. Brian imparted the basics, but most of Michael's running commentary on Justin was strictly omitted. There's no need for Justin to hear shit like that - it's not fair, it's no longer relevant, and Brian is willing to believe that Michael didn't mean it. That doesn't change the fact that he said it, of course, but Brian is very familiar with Michael's propensity to say regretful things in the heat of the moment.

"I thought we could go out to lunch," Justin says cheerfully, which seems to assuage Michael's nerves. Justin smiles hopefully at Brian and adds, "Cynthia said you'd be free."

"I am," Brian confirms. Sure, the stack of paperwork is mile-high and there's a flood of emails coming in, but he owes Sunshine a birthday lunch and that takes precedence. "Where to?"

"I reserved a spot for us at Giorgione." Justin turns to Michael. "You can come too, right? You'd love their tiramisu."

Looking pleased, Michael agrees, "Sure. If you don't mind."

"Not at all. Right, Bri?"

"Right. Except, I can only stay until two." As he says this, Brian monitors Michael's reaction carefully. He's clearly disappointed. Quickly, Brian explains, "I have a new client I'm meeting with."

"Oh," Michael says, looking even more disappointed.

Fortunately, Justin jumps in and offers brightly, "We could hang out. There's this comic book store nearby that we could go to - it's not as great as yours, but it's pretty cool."

Michael cheers up almost instantly and starts quizzing Justin about where the shop is and what kind of stock they carry. _Clever Sunshine,_ Brian thinks, smiling at his partner appreciatively, as Justin continues stoking Michael's enthusiasm and subtly stroking his ego. His efforts are smooth, seamless, and wildly successful. Feeling increasingly at ease, Brian turns his attention back to Michael. "I could meet the two of you later for a drink. Say, five?"

"You're going to be done by five?" Justin laughs disbelievingly. "That's one for the books."

 _ **Very** clever Sunshine. _ Brian glances surreptitiously at Michael, who looks flattered and even more pleased. Deciding to further feed that fire, Brian shrugs and says, "We might as well make the most of these few days. You said you're here until Thursday, right?"

Michael looks at him with a strange expression. A sense of déjà vu accompanies that look; after a moment, Brian realises - this is how they used to communicate a lot of the time, in looks, speaking silently to one another. He suspects they may have lost their knack for it, for the most part, but he decides to give it his best shot.

It works. Michael shrugs and says lightly, "I might be able to stay longer."

"You should," Justin encourages, grinning radiantly at Michael. It's that winning smile that nobody can resist; Brian suppresses a smile as he watches Michael melt, quite visibly.

"Well," Michael shrugs again, looking at Brian inquisitively. "Maybe I could stretch it 'til Sunday. Only, I might need to stay with you guys. Would that be okay?"

"Sure," Brian says.

"Everyone else is going home tomorrow," Justin adds. "You can have the guestroom as soon as they're gone. It'll be great!"

Michael smiles at Justin gratefully and echoes, "Great. Thanks."

Then he turns to Brian and says a little more seriously, "Really, thanks."

The look he gives Brian suggests that the 'thanks' extends beyond being allowed to stay with them. For the first time in a long time, Brian can sense the gap between them closing. He doesn't fool himself that they're back to where they used to be - he doubts that that's even possible. But for now, their friendship seems to be within reach again, and he feels a little less estranged. This earth isn't scorched yet. Offering Michael a smile, Brian says truthfully, "It's our pleasure."

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear your thoughts! While Brian and Justin's relationship will always remain the core focus of this series, lately I have been increasingly interested in looking at the other people in their lives. One issue that particularly intrigues me is how their friends and family perceived/responded to them moving away. I have a few other pieces planned that focus on this which will involve Gus, Daphne, Michael, Jennifer, and Molly. So that's where I'm hoping to head next with this series, as well as continuing to update _Ours_ \- the next chapter of that is coming soon :)


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